


A Different Sound

by greendoodle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Music, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, Physical Abuse, Pianist Bokuto Koutarou, Violinist Akaashi Keiji, its very light tho haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 16:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendoodle/pseuds/greendoodle
Summary: “I wanna hear you play.”“I’m sorry, I don’t play the piano.”“No, no, not that,” Bokuto stammered, looking down at Akaashi’s bandaged fingers. “The violin.”Akaashi gave his upperclassman a look. “Why?”Golden eyes met emerald ones. “I… wanna hear your music.”or: Akaashi isn't happy with his playing until he meets a particular musical prodigy.





	A Different Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Back with my true love, Bokuaka, what's going down~ <3  
> In all seriousness though, this was my entry for the very first zine I got accepted into! Unfortunately, the project (HQ Art AU) ended up falling through and I've decided to go ahead and post my piece regardless! (Wrote this back in the summer of 2017)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Oh, how I adore my gay owls.

Akaashi Keiji did not like his hands.

It wasn’t as if there was a particular problem with them. They were the hands that helped him become the top student in his class, the hands that helped him do well in sports, and the hands that helped him play the violin well enough to win accolades.

Logically, with all these accomplishments, his hands should be his pride and joy. They were a constant through every aspect of his life.

And yet, Akaashi hated them.

They were bony, and skinny. Too long. Too cold. Whenever anyone brushed up against his hands they immediately recoiled, jumping back in alarm and disapproval. To say Akaashi was used to this type of reaction was an understatement.

Despite all this, he needed his hands. He needed them in order to play the violin.

But… he hated playing the violin.

At first, he reveled in the music he created through his own fingertips and energetically went to every lesson his parents paid for with a skip in his step. But, his mother in particular was hell-bent on perfection and eventually his playing wasn’t good enough. Soon, neither his teacher nor the songs he composed were good enough either. In the end, his mother became his instructor and drilled lessons into him every day without fail. Whenever Akaashi slipped up, he received a deft smack on the hands as punishment. Whenever he got too sick to play, he was hit after he recovered for ‘neglecting his lessons.’

The whole ordeal bruised his hands and he did everything he could to divert attention away from them. Even so, he couldn’t help biting, picking, and bandaging them, then repeating the process.

They were ugly.

 _He_ felt ugly.

Yet because of the relentless violin lessons all throughout his life and with no other remarkable talents at his disposal, he eventually applied to an art school where he would spend the rest of his days, studying music.

 _Firm and steady, firm and steady_ , the lessons burned into the back of his skull.

_Firm and steady._

He grimaced. Maybe life would be somewhat bearable as a street musician.

 

 

 

 

 

It was a few weeks into the year and Akaashi felt incredibly frustrated. His mother had pulled him aside to talk about the major he would pursue in college and they had come to the conclusion that he would go into performance for violin with an added business major on the side.

Akaashi had accepted his fate, diligently attending the lessons with his mother, refusing to speak back whenever he made a mistake for fear he would be hit.

Even so, he still wanted to rekindle the old passion he had for the violin. If he was going to play that cursed instrument for the rest of his life, he might as well TRY to feel good about it, right?

Except, at the moment, he felt the exact opposite of good.

Akaashi tapped impatiently at the score sheet in front of him with his pencil. It had been years since he had picked up composing. He had hoped that if he stayed after school for a few hours he would be able to come up with something that could make even his mother happy. Maybe not something extraordinary, but at least something she would not immediately write off as garbage. Because, let’s face it. Everything he made was garbage.

The first year’s hand hovered over the lines, his fingers gripping the pencil tightly. A myriad of notes blared through his head, some sharp, some flat, though nothing sounded quite right. Akaashi swallowed. His hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

 _Firm and steady_ —the lessons drilled into his head.

_Firm and steady._

He crumpled the paper in his hands and angrily tossed the entire mess into the trash can. Stifling a large sigh, he looked around at the sparsely populated classroom and wondered if anyone else was as lost as he was.

Akaashi hid a sad smile. Of course not. They wouldn’t have come to a music school if that was the case.

Shaking off a feeling of emptiness, he decided he would walk through the corridors to get his mind off of things. He figured a little exercise wouldn’t hurt especially since he had a few hours to spare before he had to go home for another violin lesson.

Setting off, Akaashi passed a number of people doing different things. Things he wanted to take note of in case it could help him. He passed by a group of people playing the guitar, two girls on a bench arguing over the correct notes to use in a particular movie scene, and a lone guy playing the trumpet on his own, the notes shaky and uncertain.

_Firm and steady. Play the trumpet firmly and stea—_

Akaashi shook his head and continued forward, his dress shoes clicking as he walked by. The birds were singing outside and the melodies of a million different songs hit his ears from around the school. There were chords from ukuleles being strummed, notes from flutes dancing across the air, and a lovely…

Akaashi paused, ears perking. It was unlike any other sound he’d ever heard. Rather than practice, it sounded as if the person playing was giving a performance. Was that a piano?

Entranced by the song, the first year began heading in the direction of the music, his feet flying to get to his destination. Upon reaching it, he realized he was standing in front of the classroom with the grand piano. He peered in, sliding the door open ever so slightly to see who was inside, playing such a lovely song.

There was a guy playing at the piano. He had a muscular build and bright, golden eyes that were focused on something in front of him. Sunlight coming in from the windows behind him made him seem quite intimidating. However, the most striking thing about him was his hair that was a mixture of white and black, spiked up at odd angles making him look like some kind of exotic, wild bird.

Akaashi stood in the doorway a moment longer, soaking in the notes that were coming from the piano. The song was soothing to say the least. It was light and playful, but carried a deeper undertone that made the first year stop and listen. His worries seemed to flit away as if someone had lifted a weight off his shoulders.

Akaashi wondered if he was rude to pry, but the song that was being played from the piano tugged at his heart strings and he needed to hear more. Taking a moment to collect himself, he straightened his tie before sliding the door open completely.

He immediately felt the guy’s eyes on him and the music abruptly came to a stop. Before Akaashi could speak up however, he was greeted with a “Hey! You’re that one kid!”

Akaashi blinked.

“You… know me?”

“Yeah!” The guy grinned, scooting over to make room for Akaashi to sit. “Everyone talks about the super uptight first year!”

Akaashi grimaced a little. “Great.”

The upperclassman gestured to the stool, patting it to imply he wanted Akaashi to sit there. Feeling as if there wasn’t an option to decline, Akaashi made his way into the empty room and sat down, feeling that the other boy was a little too close for comfort.

“What was your name?”

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Oh, that’s pretty.”

Akaashi stiffened, a bit surprised by the sudden compliment. The older boy didn’t seem to take notice and continued, “I’m Bokuto Koutarou! Second-year!”

Akaashi nodded politely. “It’s nice to meet you Bokuto-san.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto grinned, throwing an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. The younger boy flinched, taken aback by the intimacy. “No need to be so formal!”

“This is just how I am…” Akaashi murmured, shying away from his upperclassman’s grip. “But, never mind that, Bokuto-san. I was wondering about the song you were playing…”

“Ah!” Bokuto looked back at the piano and then back at Akaashi. “Was I too loud? Did I distract you?”

“No, no, not at all,” Akaashi replied, a bit worn from the older boy’s enthusiasm. “I was actually wondering if you could tell me more about the song? It’s beautiful. I would love to play it myself on the violin.”

“Oh,” Bokuto looked a bit deflated. “It’s…  not done yet.”

Akaashi paused. “Was it… a song you composed yourself?”

“Sorta?” Bokuto said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I got bored so I just did whatever.”

Akaashi was at a loss for words. To think that someone would take basic composition theories and throw them down the drain in order to write a song on a whim… a decent song at that. He gave Bokuto a full look over.

“Bokuto-san, are you… one of the people who got accepted to this school on scholarship?”

Bokuto blinked. “I guess? I won a few piano competitions.”

“You didn’t have to take a test or anything?”

The upperclassman made a face. “I don’t really like tests.”

Unbelievable.

Akaashi felt his hands getting shaky again. He clenched them into tight fists and looked away, getting ready to leave. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Well, wait—”

Bokuto grabbed his wrist. This prodigy know-it-all kid certainly was easy with giving out touches as well as flaunting his musical superiority. Akaashi felt a certain revulsion at the fact that someone else was touching him, especially so close to his hands. He reflexively relaxed so that Bokuto would let go of him.

“Yes?”

“I wanna hear you play.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t play the piano.”

“No, no, not that,” Bokuto stammered, looking down at Akaashi’s bandaged fingers. “The violin.”

Akaashi gave his upperclassman a look. “Why?”

Golden eyes met emerald ones. “I… wanna hear your music.”

The younger boy stared incredulously at Bokuto. As if some kind of musical prodigy needed to hear someone else play in order to compose his masterpieces. This was some sort of grand insult on Bokuto’s part.

“I think you hear enough music in this school as it is.”

“No, Akaashi,” Bokuto pressed, a pout forming on his lips. “ _Your_ music.”

This wasn’t working. The idiot was dead-set on hearing Akaashi play the violin. Even though the boy was his upperclassman, even Akaashi could feel his patience running dry. He had to come up with an excuse.

“I hate playing the violin.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened at this. Akaashi felt a bit uncomfortable divulging that information to a stranger. It wasn’t as if it weren’t true. The fact that he himself had never stated it out loud until this moment was what unnerved him.

“Do you play anything else?”

Akaashi shook his head.

Bokuto seemed to be in deep thought at this. He had crossed his arms and hummed a bit, brows furrowed in contemplation. Akaashi took this as his cue to leave.

“Well, if there’s nothing else—”

“I’ll teach you!”

Akaashi stared. “What?”

“I’ll teach you how to play piano! We can play the song!”

“I’m… huh?”

“It’s kinda messy right now, but… here, come here!” Bokuto moved forward to grab at Akaashi’s arm again, causing the underclassman to recoil back in alarm.

“N-no, I have somewhere to be.”

“Oh.”

Bokuto sat back on his stool, refusing to take his gaze off of Akaashi. “Then… tomorrow?”

Akaashi fiddled with his fingers, eyeing the exit. “I… don’t know.”

The upperclassman stared at Akaashi’s hands sadly. Akaashi felt the gaze too strongly. Finally, the violinist took a deep, shaky breath and responded.

“I’ll try.”

Bokuto beamed and Akaashi felt his heart lunge. He wondered if the music was the only thing that drew him to that room.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, telling his heart to beat regularly.

_Firm and steady._

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi was late to his lesson.

His mother had been furious and ran her mouth off in a frenzy, reprimanding him for being a disgraceful son who didn’t respect his elders or care about consequences.

‘Do you know how hard it is for musical artists to make their way into the world nowadays? You can’t afford to slack off, even in the slightest!’

‘Yes, mother,’ he had responded.

‘I cannot believe you would desecrate all the hard work I have put into your education and run off like that. How DARE you even think it is even remotely excusable for you to show up to our lesson four minutes—no, even one second late??’

‘I’m sorry, mother.’

Akaashi took the beating as usual, upturning his hands so that his palms were face up to meet the metal rod. He shook a little when he felt something bruise, wondering if anything broke. His lip quivered.

_Firm and steady._

He bit his lip to keep it still.

_Firm… and steady._

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Akaashi, an upperclassman is here to see you.”

Akaashi looked up from his desk to find Bokuto standing in the doorway with one of his classmates. The older boy was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, looking across the classroom to rest his eyes on the violinist.

Akaashi stared back, feeling his hands come together to pick at his nails. He wondered if it would be rude to act as if he didn’t know Bokuto.

The look in Bokuto’s eyes told him that it would.

Sighing, Akaashi gathered up his papers in a stack and got up from the chair. It had been a few days since he had met Bokuto in that classroom the other day and although he felt a small tinge of guilt after skipping out on their arranged meeting, he felt the need to focus on more pressing issues instead of spending time to amuse some sort of happy-go-lucky-got-in-through-scholarships-prodigy.

Akaashi thanked his classmate before turning to meet the upperclassman in the hallway. He wasn’t sure what the taller boy wanted, but he would first and foremost apologize for missing their arrangement and then be done with it. He had to get back to working on his composition.

“Hello, Bokuto-san, I’m—”

“Akaashi, come with me to the piano room!”

Akaashi stopped.

“E-excuse me?”

“I finished the song!”

Akaashi stiffened. Well, shoot. This was not going at all like he had planned. He had wanted to tell Bokuto to leave because he was working on something important. Yet, that song was the reason he had gotten into this mess in the first place so it wouldn’t hurt to go listen to it… right? He picked at the skin on his left index finger.

“Alright.”

Bokuto smiled and grabbed Akaashi’s arm, taking him away from the classroom. Akaashi visibly tensed, but kept up the pace so that the upperclassman wouldn’t be dragging him all the way to their destination.

When they arrived, Boktuo let go of Akaashi and immediately sprinted to sit at the piano, placing a single sheet of music on the stand.

Akaashi watched as Bokuto looked back up at him with a grin, gesturing to the seat next to him. The underclassman sighed, but proceeded to sit down next to the excited pianist.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi began again, trying to sound firm. "I was trying to apologize for the other day..."

Bokuto looked confusedly back at Akaashi before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, it's okay, I got to finish our song!"

Akaashi glanced at the sheet music out of the corner of his eye. The notes weren't organized on the page, but scattered randomly not only on the lines, but above them and below them as well. "Is... that so."

"Here! I'll teach you!"

Bokuto reached forward to grab Akaashi's hands, but the underclassman was ready for it, bringing his fingers together tightly.

"Um, could you please just give out directions vocally?"

Bokuto blinked, but then sat back a little in his seat, nodding. He turned to look at the sheet music, then back down at the younger boy's hands.

“Try playing a clean note!”

Akaashi nodded and turned towards the keys. He felt his body tense up and his fingers shake. The pressures of perfection overwhelming.

 _Firm and steady_ , a voice in Akaashi’s head echoed. _Firm and steady, firm and steady, firm and stea—_

Bokuto jolted as Akaashi slammed down on a few of the keys with all the force he could muster. The resounding notes clashed together in the air, making a cacophonous sound ring across the piano room.

Akaashi paused, eyeing the keys with disdain. That wasn’t the sound he wanted at all.

“Ah, Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” he closed his eyes, turning to his upperclassman and waiting for a scathing remark. “Please tell me what I should fix to make it sound more like your playing.”

“Ahm…” Bokuto began, wincing slightly and sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I… think you should go back to violin…”

Akaashi’s eyes flew open and he looked at Bokuto in a panic. “What? Why? What am I doing wrong? Was it really that bad?”

“No, no, no—” Bokuto stammered, hands up in defense. “It was fine, it’s just…”

Bokuto ran a few fingers of his own fingers across the keys gently.

“You’re hurting the piano.”

Akaashi blinked. Hurting the piano? What, did inanimate objects have feelings now? What kind of nonsense was he saying?

The younger boy shook his head.

“Bokuto-san, I’d prefer if you told me the truth,” Akaashi said solemnly, looking down at his fingers. His bruised, battered fingers stared back up at him. “Tell me if you don’t think I have the necessary skills to become a pianist. I can take it.”

Bokuto looked a bit taken aback. “No! You just need to… here.”

He reached over to grab Akaashi’s hands and the younger boy reflexively jumped, suddenly self-conscious all over again.

“Wai—”

“Like, this,” Bokuto wrapped his hands around Akaashi’s and laid both on the keys, pressing on Akaashi’s fingers delicately. More delicately than Akaashi ever thought possible with how large and clunky the upperclassmen’s hands looked. The younger boy slowly relaxed into the hold.

Softly, Bokuto began to play the piece through Akaashi's fingertips. It was a little awkward at first given that he wasn't touching the keys himself, but it slowly grew more natural as the song continued. Akaashi watched in amazement as his fingers flew across the piano, creating music he wasn’t sure he was able to make again since he first took violin. The notes told a tale, something soft, a bit subdued, but eloquent and powerful, resounding through the younger boy’s bones. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Bokuto let go of his hands.

“That was…”

Bokuto looked at him expectantly. Akaashi looked back at the score on the stand, mesmerized.

“Incredible.”

The upperclassman beamed.

 

 

 

 

 

It became a regular thing.

The two of them would meet whenever they had the chance, Akaashi visiting Bokuto in the piano room and Bokuto popping in on Akaashi even during breaks between classes. Akaashi didn’t want to admit that he looked forward to the times they spent together.

“It’s kinda funny, isn’t it?” Bokuto laughed, digging through his bag as Akaashi sat on the piano stool next to him.

“What is?”

“It’s like you’ve always been here, yaknow? I can’t remember what it was like without you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi took a quick intake of breath. He curled his fingers to his chest as he watched the upperclassman take out an assortment of school supplies out of his bag.

_Firm and steady._

“I think you’re a natural!”

Akaashi gave Bokuto a look as the older man turned to stare at him.

“At piano, I mean!”

Akaashi snorted. “If anyone’s a natural at piano, it’s you Bokuto-san.”

“Then, you’re a natural at violin!”

“…that’s…”

Akaashi felt something waver inside him and though he tried to suppress it, it was too overwhelming. It was hard to breathe, it was impossible to swallow. He shook his head in response and stared straight ahead at the music stand.

_Firm and steady._

Bokuto looked at him inquisitively. “Akaashi?”

“I… had to practice a lot to play as well as I do now.”

“Yeah, I know! You’re such a hard worker!”

Akaashi bit his lip. “It… wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

Bokuto paused, looking a bit distraught. Slowly, he reached forward to take one of Akaashi’s hands and placed them on the piano keys. “What… do you want to do?”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto incredulously. “What?”

Boktuo smiled cheerfully. “What do _you_ want to do then, Akaashi? I want to hear your music.”

“I don’t… I want…”

Akaashi felt the lump in his throat unravel. What did he want to do? Nobody had asked what he wanted to do before. His eyes stung.

“I… I don’t want to play anymore.” Akaashi felt wet, hot tears streaming down his face and he bowed his head as if ashamed. “I don’t want… to play it anymore… I don’t…”

“A-ah, Akaashi!!” Bokuto started, alarmed. He wrapped his arms around Akaashi and held him tight, burying his head into the younger boy’s shoulder. “Sorry, did I force you? Sorry, sorry, Akaashi, I didn’t mean to…”

Akaashi shook his head in their embrace, the tears refusing to stop. He wanted to tell Bokuto so many things. He wanted to tell him how much their lessons meant to him, he wanted to tell him how much his company meant, he wanted to tell him that he wasn’t crying because he was sad… well, not initially at least.

“I want…” Akaashi began, the next moment he had a free breath. Taking a shaky intake, he spoke with a worn voice. “I want… my own thing.”

Bokuto’s face lit up, looking down at Akaashi and brushing a lone tear away. Releasing Akaashi from the hug, he hummed a little in thought. Akaashi, upon realizing that they had been embracing, flushed scarlet red, heartbeat quickening.

_Firm and steady._

“How about conducting!”

Akaashi blinked. “Conducting?”

“Yeah, since you like composing, conducting is like an extension,” Bokuto chirped, taking Akaashi’s hands into his own again. “You have the prettiest hands, so elegant and reliable…  it’s perfect!”

Akaashi blushed, looking down at the hands he despised, now wrapped around Bokuto’s calloused fingers. “You think so?”

“I know so, Akaashi! Your hands, they’re… firm and steady. They can do incredible things.”

Akaashi felt as if he was going to cry again, but instead he laughed, taking one hand to rub at his eye while still holding on to Bokuto with the other. “Maybe they can… when I’m with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi swayed on the balls of his feet, listening to the murmur of the crowd behind him. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous as he stood there backstage. Maybe it was because it was his first performance or because it was the first concert his mother would attend. In thinking about it, it was probably a combination of both.

Akaashi felt someone slide up next to him and plant a kiss on his cheek. He started a little, then looked to see his visitor.

“Bokuto-san, you came!”

“Of course, I came to my boyfriend’s first concert!” Bokuto grinned, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “I ran here right after my recital!”

“No wonder you’re sweaty,” Akaashi teased, prying himself away from Bokuto as the older man pouted.

“Akaaaaashi…”

Akaashi leaned forward and planted a light kiss to Bokuto’s lips. “Thank you for coming, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto squirmed in delight and grabbed Akaashi’s hands in his own.

“You got this, Akaashi!”

Akaashi felt his anxiety melt under his boyfriend’s touch. He squeezed back, his skinnier, more slender hands against Bokuto’s thick, strong ones.

With one last kiss, Akaashi headed off towards the stage where the orchestra was awaiting him. Taking a look into the crowd to find his mother looking up at him apprehensively, he walked up to the stand and firmly grabbed the baton. Akaashi took a deep breath and looked backstage to see Bokuto giving a thumbs up from the veiled darkness. Akaashi smiled.

_Firm and steady._

He began.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I was inspired by the official 'setter conductors' art that was going around during the time I was writing this! I'm sorry, I love making Akaashi cry, I can't help it, it's like my number one weakness, I swear to god.
> 
> Talk Bokuaka to me at my twitter @tetsookie and my tumblr @greendoodle!! talking abt these two lovebirds is my favorite pastime <3


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